The Art of The Game
by realityshifts
Summary: A new prisoner leads to a new game.
1. Chapter 1

On the screen Number Two watched as the new arrival climbed those dark stairs out of her forced slumber. She opened her eyes and looked at her surroundings. Recalling, no doubt the moment of her capture and wondering how it was she awoke in her own bed. Perhaps it had been a dream. She sat up still sick from the drugs, her movements as slow as her mind. Unsteadily she got to her feet, looking for answers the familiarity of the room could not provide. She went to the window. Now for that delicious moment when reality as she understood it would be torn from her. She did not keep him from it long. She pulled back the curtains and looked out at The Village. Confusion poured it's toxic brew into her. She looked back at the room which could only be a lie and then again at the world beyond her window.

He reached for the phone.

She startled as the phone in her room buzzed. Then picked up the receiver.

"Number Seven?" He said.

She looked down at the phone. Saw the number on it and said, "Yes."

"Come for tea. Number Two. The green dome."

"Who is this?"

Already a spark of resistance.

"Green dome." Two said. "You can't miss it."

He hung up leaving her to her confusion. She would come. They always did.

Two switched the view to Number Six's room. The camera's spying eye found the man getting out of bed. He moved slowly. The usual defiance dulled by the after effects of a night he wouldn't remember.

Yet another wasted effort to crack that indomitable will. If it were only a matter of breaking the man he would have done with it. It was the mandate placed on him by his masters that tied his hands, restricted his options and insured his failure. And yet he alone would be held accountable.

Feeling sour, he opened the intercom to Six's room. "I trust you had a good night sleep, Number Six."

Those accusing eyes found the camera. "You would know better than I."

"No call to be testy, old man," Two said.

"Isn't there?"

"Whatever you may think of your treatment here, you bring it on yourself," Two scowled at the face on the screen. The man was made of stone and he was expected to break him with a feather. "Give a little and you can find peace."

"Peace is something I will never know in this place."

"By your own choice," Two said.

"By yours."

Six turned his back on the camera, only to be picked up by another. There was no where for him to hide.

The yellow phone buzzed. Two reached for it, his attention still on the screen, where Six went about his morning routine like a caged lion.

"Yes." Two listened, "of course. Show her in."

The huge steel door at the top of the ramp slid open and the girl came through. She spun round as it closed again behind her. Trapped, she turned back. Momentarily her attention was drawn to the restless man on the huge screen. Another mystery for her to ponder.

"Good to see you, my dear."

Her gaze fell on him. Face to face with the enemy. She was ready for a fight.

"Do come in." he said pleasantly. "No, need to be frightened."

She came on then mesmerized by the rest of the room. The spotlight caught her. She squinted up at it's source in puzzled irritation.

Two stood and held out a hand in greeting.

She looked at him, looked at the hand. Her face was full of that wonderful shock and confusion. He enjoyed it.

His hand hung unaccepted. No matter, in time she would accept anything from him, without question. She had a weakness, he only need discover and exploit it. Her past was not without tragedy. At a young age her mother had been murdered. An event she witnessed. Her father then abandoned her. Plied correctly such emotional damage can be used as a means of control. One only need understand the mechanisms.

"Who are you?" She asked.

"I ask the questions here," He said.

She disregarded that. "What country is this?"

He choose to let her insolence pass, instead smiling amiably. "This is The Village, I am Number Two."

"You're English," she said. "Are we in the UK?"

"Such a questioning mind, my dear. We will have to see to that."

He pushed a button, bringing up the chair. The chair emerging from the floor predictably surprised her.

"Please have a seat," he said.

His kind offer was met with another question. "What do you want?"

"Your cooperation. Please, sit."

Her eyes grew hot, burning with that fire he saw is so few. She didn't like to be pushed.

"Would you like some tea?" Still congenial. A friend in a frightening place. "Or perhaps you would prefer coffee?"

Nothing yielded in her. The compulsion to respond to social politeness failed to emerge. Conditioning only goes so far. She walked round the desk, eyed the penny-farthing bicycle curiously.

"Of course," he said. "You drink neither tea nor coffee. Though you do have a fondness for orange juice."

Again the surprise.

"Your file is quite complete, I assure you."

"A thrilling read?"

How quickly she adapted to this new insight. Like a cat, always landing on her feet. At least for the time being.

"One area in particular," he said.

Her face seamed to close over. It was worth bearing in mind she'd resorted to violence rather than submit to her former masters. She would require a firm but delicate approach.

The door opened and the Butler came in with a tray. Two raised the table. The girl watched suspiciously as the table was set and the tea poured. A glass of orange juice was set aside for her.

"Come my dear," Two said. "Join me."

She came back to stand in front of the desk, her face bathed in the blue light. She made no move towards the table. She was waiting for an explanation.

She could jolly well wait. He dismissed the Butler and sipped his tea. His attention went back to the screen where the cameras followed Six. The man was taking his morning walk. Moving purposely through the Village, greeting those he met sarcastically. Two looked back at Number Seven, she was watching him intently. He switched off the screen feeling as if he had been caught in a guilty pleasure.

"I believe you have guessed why you are here," he said.

She said nothing continuing to look at him with that quiet air of contempt.

"You have something we want," he said, feigning patience. "The sooner you give it to us the better for you," he paused watching her, then went on. "For those who cooperate life can be quite comfortable. However, for those who refuse, it's unpleasant and often short."

"I don't cooperate."

"In the past," he said, "you have not. But seeing as you do now that it is the only favorable option, I trust you will reconsider."

Those eyes held him, "No."

"You're not being very amenable."

"And you're not being very imaginative. I know this game. Try another one."

That was a challenge. She thought herself brave.

"Imagination is for children. We are not children," the irritation rose in his voice. "And neither are we playing games."

"Games are all you have."

"This is an opportunity," he said. "I suggest you take it. Continue to resist and you will find that there is nothing we can not do to you."

That chilled her mood. For a moment she dropped her eyes.

Her file was quite explicit as to her rebellious nature. In light of what they hoped to obtain from her it hardly seemed worth the time. A more suitable subject could easily be found. Still he must make the effort.

There was a white button laying on his desk. He picked up. It bore The Village logo and the number seven. Her number. He handed it to her.

She took it as if it might be a snake. "What's this?"

"It's you. Number Seven."

"I have a name. I intend to keep it."

"Here we are all numbers," he said. "We find it removes the troublesome burden of ego. Allows us to understand our place."

Those hot eyes flashed at him.

"Give it time, Number Seven. You will come to appreciate our ways."

"No amount of time will make me appreciate subjugation."

"That's a very dangerous attitude," Two said.

"Dangerous for who? Those who pretend at being in control?"

"Make no mistake, we are in control."

She stared down at the button in her hand. "You will never control me."

And yet another challenge. He met it. "I assure you, we already do."

To his surprise she threw the button at him. It caught him between the eyes with a stinging blow. He staggered back, his hands flying to his face. His fingers came away with a stain of red. He held his rage as he took out his handkerchief and dabbed the small wound. The humiliation was far greater than the physical damage.

"Foolish girl," he said. "What did you hope to gain from that little outburst?"

"Satisfaction."

"I certainly hope you are satisfied with the consequences of your disobedience."

When she looked at him, he saw the fear he desired. She might now be persuaded, if he tread carefully. The balance between despair and hope is a delicate one.

"Aggression is a state of mind. The mind can be changed," he picked up the yellow phone. "Get me Number Forty Nine." He was enjoying the panic raising in her eyes. She was not as hard as she pretended. The cracks were already beginning to show.

He addressed her. "Number Forty Nine, is a doctor who specializes in re-socializing through medical introversion. We call it social conversion. Inelegant, but effective. After his treatment you will like it here." He allowed a smile. "In so much as you will have the capacity to like anything."

She moved away, up the ramp towards the metal door, seeking escape. She wouldn't find it. For her there would be no escape. He was her only hope of reprieve. She would crawl to him, begging.

The doctor's voice came over the phone drawing his attention back to it. "Yes, doctor," Two said. "I wonder if you might come to my office?"

The girl slammed herself against the door.

"I have a new patient for you."

He put down the phone and stooped to retrieve the button which had fallen beside his chair. He tucked himself comfortably into the seat, and held the button, letting the light play off the image on it's glossy surface. It was rare to encounter such strong resistance at this point. Most accepted the loss of identity as an almost trivial matter. The assigned number they accepted in it's stead was just part of this new world. A world in which they desired to find a place; with as little pain as possible. If there was any resistance, it came latter, on matters they considered to be of greater importance. Of course by then they had already conceded. One concessions leads to another.

That was all he required now. The first concession.

The girl was still pressed against the unyielding door. If he were ever so gentle, she might in desperation, willingly allow herself to be deceived.

"There is no need for all this unpleasantness," he said. "This is all new to you. You are understandably in a state of shock. The occasional misstep is expected. It can even be forgiven."

She hesitated. Fear was weakening her. He had played it well. She longed for a way out. The survival instinct is almost always stronger than conviction.

He held out the button. "Come now, let's be reasonable," his tone was almost pleading. He wanted after all to help her. "Simply make an effort to fit in. That is all I ask."

She stood away from the door, turning to face him. He saw instantly that he'd misjudged. What he'd taken for weakness was the hardening of resolve.

She laughed.

"You find this amusing?" he demanded.

"I find it ridiculous," she was fully committed to her rebellion. "You expect me to take a number over my name. To deny myself. To become nothing. So that I can be destroyed piece by piece." Her eyes were bright, she might have been crying. "And I'm supposed to pretend you're doing me a favor."

"You're being a bit over dramatic, don't you think?" he tossed the button on the table. "You've only been asked to accept your place in this society."

"As a willing slave?"

"Willing or unwilling. For you, the end result is the same."

From the top of the ramp Number Seven looked down on him. "No. It isn't."

Even as he leaned back in his chair, knowing he held absolute power over her, she made him uneasy. He found himself locked in a foolish staring contest. Her will against his. He dared not look away, least she win some unspoken victory over him.

Mercifully the phone buzzed, breaking the spell.

He picked it up, grateful to feel in charge again. "Yes. Very good," he glanced her way almost tentatively. She still glared down at him. Willful to the bitter end. "Send him in."

He set the phone down and reached with the tip of his cane for the button that would open the door.

"The good Doctor is going to come through that door and take you by force to hospital." He said. "When he is finished with you; whoever it is you fancy yourself to be, will be gone forever."

"Why not just kill me?"

So to the point. So like him. Like Number Six. It was almost jarring to realize that was the reason he wished to destroy her. She was like Six. Insolent. Self assured. Relentlessly unyielding. Ready to die rather than bend. An individual.

But she wasn't Six. She was Seven. There was no mandate to hold him back. She was not valuable.

"Of course termination is still an option," he relished the thought of it. "But we find the opportunity to experiment extremely beneficial. One can never know too much about the inner workings of the human mind."

He hit the button. The door slid open behind her, revealing the Doctor and his orderlies.

"As you can see, your allegiance is a mere formality," Number Two said. "We don't require it to make use of you."


	2. Chapter 2

On the screen Two watched Six as he settled at the cafe table. The waiter came over and there was an exchange. How alone Six made himself. Even in the crowd he was isolated. He sought no connection with the people around him. Number Two leaned out of his chair and tapped the tip of his cane against his shoe. Trust was the element they could not cultivate in Number Six. Every encounter was regarded by him as trap. A ploy to rob him of his precious secrets. He would condemn himself to a life of solitude rather than risk confiding in an enemy. The cane tapped faster. The man was far too comfortable in his own company.

Six sipped his coffee and watched even as he was being watched. Always on guard that one. He believed himself to be unique in the universe. A wolf surrounded by sheep. But he wasn't unique. The thought stopped the unconscious tapping of Two's cane. Seven, she was like him. What does a man hunger for more than anything but to find a kindred spirit? He leaned his chin on the cane, watching Six. They may yet coax him out of his shell. He felt a flutter of what could only be fear. He might already be too late.

He grabbed up the yellow phone. "Get me Number Forty Eight, immediately."

The doctor's face appeared on the screen like a child called in from his play. "The patient is prepped." he made little effort to conceal his annoyance. "I was just about to begin."

"Stop the procedure."

The doctors face flushed. "By who's authority?"

"Mine. I need her intact."

"For what purpose?" The Doctor's voice rose to a petulant whine. "She's combative. Uncontrollable by conventional means. A perfect candidate for the procedure."

"Must I remind you of your place Doctor." Number Two said dangerously.

"No Sir." The man looked properly abased. "I merely wish to understand."

"Of course," Two's tone was now placating. "This girl's temperament, while not suited to our present purpose, is I believe a unique asset regarding our special project."

"Number Six? I fail to see how that would be at all beneficial. Giving him access to another malcontent will only encourage him."

"As you say. You fail to see."

That ruffled the doctor's feathers. "They share a remarkable similarity in nature," he said indignantly. "I should think contact with her would only strengthen his resistance. He would surly view her as an ally."

"Precisely, Doctor."

"I want to be on record as opposing this." The doctor said, "I see it as both dangerous and reckless."

"Noted Number Forty Nine. Be so kind to Have Number Seven returned to her room."


	3. Chapter 3

As Six descended the ramp the blue light found him. It followed him faithfully to the desk. He was greeted by the round back of Two's chair.

"You wanted to see me?" He waited for an impatient moment drumming his fingers on the desk.

The chair's back continued to face him like a big, black egg.

"You aught to be ready to hatch." He said. "Why don't you peck your way out of there."

The chair spun slowly. Two looked out at him. "Still in a bad temper, I see."

Six noted the dull red mark between Two's eyes. "What do you want?"

"To show you something." Two activated the view on the screen.

The camera showed a young woman laying on a bed. Sleeping or unconscious. It was impossible to say.

"You may find this interesting. Number Six."

"Unlikely. I'm not the voyeur you are."

The only response was a slight twitch in the man's left eye. "She's a new arrival. Been having a some difficulty adjusting."

"Would you like me to give her some tips?"

"That won't be necessary my good man," now an almost goodhearted laugh. "We have the matter well in hand."

"Then why am I here?"

"To observe. Perhaps to be enlightened."

"Oh, in what way?"

"The futility of your continued resistance."

A new game. Always interesting.

On the screen the girl was stirring. Coming out of it slowly. She looked round as if tying to remember. Then bolted out of the bed. Her hands went to her head. Explored it with panicked fingers, searching for something. Then she sagged back onto the bed and sat, dazed.

She was dressed in the usual Village attire, slacks and a stripped shirt. Cheerful as a candy cane. Her feet were bare and her hair disheveled. Her pail face was drawn tight with the stress of her current situation. She was unremarkable. Just a frightened young girl. Not at all uncommon here. What matter of manipulation would they use to make this one special?

"Why was she drugged?" Six asked.

"Yesterday, during her interview, she became violent." Something that might be interpenetrated as concern crossed Two's face. "We were forced to sedate her for her own safety."

"Of course." So he was meant to believe she was a fighter. He was to feel a common bond, no doubt.

Two picked up the yellow phone."We are hoping this experience alone will be enough to convince her that hostility is not the answer."

The phone in the girl's room rang. She rose, a bit unsteady on her feet and picked it up.

"How are you feeling this morning, Number Seven?" Number Two asked. "More reasonable, I trust." A smile twisted the corner of his lips.

On the screen the girl was silent. The fear Six had seen early was gone, replaced by something unreadable.

"No reason to be angry with me, my dear." Two scolded. "The only one you have to blame for this unfortunate business, is yourself."

She tapped her head. "What changed your mind about changing my mind?"

From her accent she was most probably an American.

"You've been shown mercy." Two said. "Don't squander it."

"You have no mercy."

"Impertinence will not help you. Cooperation is the key to a happy life. Except your circumstances and submit to them."

"Never." She slammed the phone down.

Six said. "She appears to be unconvinced."

"She will come round. All in good time."

The button pinned to her shirt caught her attention. She tore it off and threw it. She had a good arm. It sailed across the room and smacked into a lamp. Oh yes, a girl after his own hart. How could he resist?

He glanced at Two, the man watched the defiant girl on the screen with displeasure. He spoke into the phone again, "Proceed."

The door to the room opened and three men came in. Number Seven met them half way. Brave, foolish or a consummate performer. She took a swing at one, connecting. They grabbed her without ceremony. She put up an admirable struggle. Giving them more than a little trouble as they dragged her from the room.

The scene, real or fabricated, angered Six. "What are you going to do with her?"

"Exile." Two said. "A little time out in the cold will teach her the value of fitting in."

The camera switched to an exterior view. The three men were now blocking the door and the girl was walking away. Slowly the people she passed fell in behind her. She glanced back at them. They moved faster, crowding her. As she passed through the Village, more joined the colorful parade.

At the stone boat she stopped, deciding it seemed to make a stand against her persecutors. The crowd was shouting now, They raised their fist and pressed in on her. The violence of their anger pushed her back. She spun away from them and broke into a run.

The cameras switched, following the mob as they drove her down to the beach and pursued her onto the sand. She tripped, going down. It appeared for a moment that they might catch her. Tension rose in Six as she scrambled for her feet and fled.

Involuntarily he responded to scene playing out before him. "What am I watching?" he demanded.

"I thought you should have recognized it, Number Six. It's public discipline. Number Seven's behavior has made her a social outcast. She won't be tolerated."

"She's only just arrived. How is it the sheep know that she isn't to be tolerated?"

"The sense of community is very strong."

"The community brainwashing." Six said angrily.

"You make no effort to understand us."

"It's not understanding I lack, but acceptance."

"One day, my dear man, you will."

The man's accretion needled Six. "Is this being done for my benefit?"

"I was warned about your over developed sense of self importance, Six." Two laughed without feeling."But really, must everything be about you? This is to benefit, Number Seven. Encourage her to come willingly into the fold."

"Yet you hope it might enlighten me as to the futility of my continued resistance."

Irritation glittered in Two's eyes.

On the screen the mob stopped as one. The girl turned to face them. Briefly they rearguard each other like players in a Mexican stand off. Then the mob moved back towards the village, leaving her alone on the sand.

"Poor thing." Two said. "Still, better she learns the hard lessons now."

"How long do you intend to leave her out there?"

"That is entirely up to her. I'm always ready to extend the hand of friendship to those willing to except it."

"And if she refuses?"

He shrugged. "Nature, as they say, will take it's course."

On the screen the girl was a small figure standing alone, looking out at the ocean.

"You would let her die?"

"She's hardly important."

"She's a human being." his anger was now unchecked.

"I'm warning you Number Six, don't interfere with this girl's rehabilitation," Two said forcibly, "We find complete isolation is most effective. Premature contact may delay or even prevent her from reaching the necessary mental and emotional state."

"You mean breaking point."

"Everyone has one," Number Two looked at him. "I trust that I will find yours soon enough."

"And this charade is how you intend to do it?"

"Such a suspicious mind."

Number Six headed for the door.

"I didn't you permission to leave." Two said.

Six stopped at the top of the ramp and looked back. "I didn't ask."

"You believe you are above us." Two snapped "Don't you?"

"In every way."

"Unbelievable insolence."

"In every way." Six smiled. "Aren't you going to open up?"

Two opened the door.

Six saluted him. "Be seeing you."

The cameras followed Six as his left the building. He went through the square heading for the clock tower.

From the tower Six could see the below beach. Number Seven was there. She walked slowly. From time to time she bent and picked something up. Beach combing. Strange under the circumstances. He watched until she lost from view.

And now to sweat a rat. He climbed back down and headed for home.

The cameras followed Six, keeping him on Two's screen. As he mounted the steps to his door he smiled back before going inside. Such an arrogant man. Always taunting.

The interior camera revealed Six as he fixed himself a cup of tea giving every indication he was settling in. He was far too casual. No sense of urgency.

"What are you playing at now?" Two asked the face on the screen.

He paced as Six casually dropped himself into his chair, leaned back and closed his eyes.

"Play hard to get if you like. But you will go, old man. You have to. Your sense of nobility will force it upon you."

Number Two changed the view to the beach, flicking through until he found the girl. She was still walking, her hands full of bits of rubbish. Such odd behavior. Perhaps she was insane. That wouldn't do at all. After a time she found a place among the rocks and made herself comfortable. He'd expected desperation. Yet, she seemed at home. Cold and hunger would soon change her mind about that.


	4. Chapter 4

"Curfew in fifteen minutes." The radio in Six's dwelling announced cheerfully. "Fifteen minutes to curfew."

On the screen Six laid down his book and rose from the chair. Two stood also. Splendid, at last the man was going to act. Six went to the door. It failed to open for him. Undeterred he headed for the window. Two smiled. Even the most suborn of men can be led if he believes the path is of his own choosing. Six moved through the Village as Two watched.

The phone buzzed. Two picked up.

The supervisor was on the other end. "Number Six leaving outer perimeter." He said. "Should we issue a yellow alert?"

"No alert. Just keep him in sight. I will be there straight away."

The screen showed Six moving down the beach. A man on a mission. Everything was going to plan. He only need set up the pieces and watch them fall.

Six followed the lone foot prints in the sand. The usual response to his defiance failed to materialize. He looked back at the Village, quiet in the early evening. It would seem he had been correct. This was the trap they had laid for him. He walked on, unmolested. At the point where the rocks jutted out towards the water, he saw her. Number Seven was perched on a large rock, head down. He approached quietly. There was a small pile of debris beside her, the things she had collected on the beach. Snarled fishing line, a piece of broken glass, rusted pieces of wire and a couple of pretty shells. She was bent over beating a heavy bit of wire with a stone. So intent on her work she failed to notice him. He watched for awhile. Whatever she was doing fully engrossed her.

Finally he said. "Pleasant evening."

She leaped down from the rock as if she might run. He moved to block her escape and oddly she smiled at him.

"Nice to see a familiar face." She said.

"Have we met?"

"Not formally. I saw you when I was in Number Two's office." she said. "up on that big screen of his. Are there cameras in all the rooms?"

"There are no secrets in this place," he said. "Everything is seen and heard."

"Can they see us now?"

"We are always under surveillance."

She looked out at the ocean. The sun was sinking low. "Where exactly is this, geographically speaking?"

"Some place that is very difficult to find and even more difficult to leave."

"Have you tried to escape?"

"It's a common pass time," he said. "You're an American."

She nodded.

"What did you do before you were brought here?"

"Nothing important."

"People are brought here for many reasons. All of them are important to someone."

She looked down. Unwilling to meet his eyes. She was hiding something.

"What is like beyond the Village?" She asked.

"There are mountains. Very high and very rugged."

"Passable?"

"I wouldn't lay odds on a barefoot girl," he said. "Who did you work for? CIA?"

"It's all in my very complete file," anger tinged her tone. "How about the ocean?"

"I haven't had the pleasure of reading your file," she wasn't giving him an inch. "The ocean is well guarded."

"Will they kill me or just drag me back?"

"Depends on how valuable you are."

She looked at him suspiciously. "Not very. Are you?"

"That's a matter of some debate. Why did they bring you here?"

"They want my soul."

Curious answer. Not what he was expecting.

"Who's side are you on?" He asked.

"My own."

"Aren't we all? Except of course those who are working for the enemy."

He moved closer and she stepped away, keeping the distance. Their shadows were long on the sand. A cool breeze came off the ocean. She hugged herself, already feeling the chill.

"Did your masters you send out here so I would find you, cold and hungry," he watched her face, "like a stray dog."

He saw it then, the spark of life. Or perhaps it was only what he wished to see.

She said, "I have no masters."

He pushed harder."Is it an attempt to make me feel something for you?"

"Like pity?" She said bitterly. "Maybe you're supposed take me home. Give me a bowl of milk and a blanket by the fireplace."

"Perhaps take you into my confidence."

"Don't."

"Why? Isn't that what you want? What they want?"

"Safe bet somebody wants it."

"But not you." He said. "What is it you do want?"

"Nothing." She went back to working the piece of metal. It was crudely bent and flattened. She was honing it's tip against the edge of a stone.

"Everyone wants something." He said. "That's how they set the hook."

She kept at her work, not looking at him. Though she was smiling as if enjoying a private joke.

"What is that you're making?" He asked.

She laughed as if struck by something funny. "A hook."

"Planning on doing some fishing?"

"They may have denied me a bread card." She held up the primitive hook so that he might admire it. "But I still intend to eat."

"With some luck you'll find a fish that wants something."

She caught his meaning and the fun went out of the moment. Her face became serious as she tested the tip of the hook against her finger. It pricked the skin.

"Let me see." He moved close again. This time she allowed it.

"It's fine," she said, "I've had a tetanus shot."

He took her hand anyway. Her fingers were sandy and cold. She pulled back, but not very hard. Her expression was unhappy.

"Did they put you up to this?" He asked.

"I don't doubt this is some kind of a game. The only question is, which of us is it designed to trap?"

"A very good question."

She took her hand away and put a discreet distance between them. If he were the fish she intended to catch she was going about it in an unusual fashion. He watched her as she picked up the snarled fishing line and began untangling it.

"What's your name?" He asked.

"Casey Thomas." Uttering the name seemed to crush her. Her face went to pieces. And then she was crying.

"Tears aren't magic." Now perhaps he would feel the barb of her hook. "They won't make me melt."

She wiped her eyes fighting to pull herself together. "Will they make you leave?"

"Very well." It was unsettling how hard she wasn't trying. "If you wish."

He walked away. She made no attempt to stop him. He stopped a short distance down the beach and looked back. She'd won the war over her emotions and was again working on the fishing line, content it seemed to let him go.

"Watch out for Rover." He said.

She glanced up. "A dog?"

"A very aggressive beach ball." He treated her to the salute. "Be seeing you."

Casey Thomas looked suitably puzzled.


	5. Chapter 5

Number Two watched this scene from the screen in the control room. The spherical eye followed it's endless path, ever watching and boon swung round, rising and falling as the operators tracked the desired targets. Number Six and Number Seven were trapped in the camera's eye. It provided him a high wide angle of the scene on the beach. There was no audio. It frustrated Two, as he watched their silent exchange with a critical eye. He should have liked to hear what was said between the them. Some hint that things were moving in a desirable direction. As they parted company now, he had no way of knowing if a conspiracy were brewing.

The supervisor was at his elbow like a bald parrot. He could feel the man's skepticism. This plan was unconventional and in that, lay it's genius. Small minds, he was surrounded by them. It made what appeared for the moment, a set back, the harder to endure. Number Seven was too willing to remain where she was and Six too willing to allow it. He had anticipated suspicion of course, but the desire to escape her dire circumstance should have overridden them in Seven. And Six, had the man lost all sense of chivalry? He could have at least offered the poor child his coat. A small gesture to seal the bond. And yet he seemed content to leave her to her terrible fate.

"It seems your plan has failed." The supervisor pointed out.

"You are too impatient. We must simply lay Number Six's suspicions to rest."

The supervisor gave him a skeptical look. "And how is it you intend to do that?"

"By convincing him we don't want him anywhere near that girl," he smiled thinly. "Have Number Six brought to my office."

"Yes sir." The supervisor moved to the phone.

On the screen Number Seven was running to catch up with Six.

"There now, you see." Two concealed his relief. "Number Six's charms have won her over."


	6. Chapter 6

Number Seven fell in step with Six. "Did they give you a number?" She asked, her tone was strangely shy.

He thought for a moment. "Six." He said finally.

"Mine was supposed to be Seven."

"Supposed to be?"

"I wouldn't accept it. That got under Two's skin." She laughed. "I was threatened with a nasty punishment."

"Isn't exile meant to be your punishment?"

"This was unexpected."

"What did you expect?"

Her breath shuttered. Like the tears earlier, it was another glimpse at her carefully guarded vulnerability. "They were going to cut up my brain."

"Social conversion?"

"That's what he called it."

"Number Two?"

She nodded. "They went so far as to take me to the hospital. I was really surprised to wake up still me."

He faced her. "Have you decided that I am not the enemy. That I can be trusted?"

She met his eyes then. "I'm willing to take the risk."

"I'm flattered."

"Do you trust me?"

"In so much as I don't believe you are a willing player in this charade of theirs."

"You're the fish and I am the bait." she said angrily. "It's true, they don't require my allegiance to make use of me."

"Don't feel too badly. They are very good at what they do."

He saw the devastating impact of his words reflected in her face. She thought herself cunning enough to fight them, even to win. Now she had reason to doubt.

"They are however not infallible."

It was a fragile hope at best, yet the life came back into her eyes. He aught to have left it be. What good did it do to encourage her?

"You know how to beat them." She said.

Intuitive girl. Not as ordinary as she appeared, to be sure. Again the feeling of familiarity.

"Casey," he said. "What is your father's name?"

She looked unhappy at the change of subject, "I don't know."

"You didn't know your father?"

"No."

She lied very well.

He left it hanging. He said carefully. "What is it they want from you?"

"Something I won't ever give them."

They were cozy as two kittens and still she refused to confide in him. "You're willing to die for that conviction?"

"Giving them what they want is a worse kind of death than anything they can do to me."

"Unusual mindset." He said. "What do you intend to do?"

"Live out here as long as I can. Maybe they will leave me in peace. For awhile."

"They won't."

Even now they were watching. Judging every gesture in this little interplay. Was it, he wondered, to their liking?

He held out his lighter. She looked at it quizzically.

"To start a fire." He said. "If you catch a fish you might like to cook him."

"That's very nice of you." She took the lighter tentatively. "It will beat rubbing a couple of sticks together." She looked away. "It's getting late. I better go before I lose the light."

He caught her arm as she turned away. "Doesn't the idea of spending the night out here alone frighten you?"

"Why?"

"Most girls would be."

She smiled proudly. "I'm not most girls."

"No," he let go of her arm, "you are an odd sort of girl."

"I'm myself." She countered. "Does that make me odd?"

"It does indeed."

Without a word she ran back down the beach. He looked after her. There was no hope for her in this place. It was only a matter of time before she was destroyed.

Six heard the siren of the approaching car. At last his interference was being acknowledged. He turned to watch it come. It held four men. All of them big. As the car drew close two of them hoped off the back. The third stepped out as the car passed, effectively putting Six in the middle. The pincer move. They would make any general proud. The car circled back and parked beside them.

"Number Two want's to see you Six." One of them said. "Don't make a fuss. Just get in."

Six looked down the darkening beach. Casey was starting back, compelled by a sense of loyalty neither of them could afford. He shook his head at her. She hesitated, then came on. Stubborn girl.

"What are we waiting for?" Six pushed past the men and climbed into the car. "We mustn't keep Number Two waiting."

The men got in as well, perhaps a bit disappointed. As the car pulled away he glanced back over his shoulder. Casey was a small figure fading into the dusk. The air had grown cold. It was going to be an unpleasant night for a lightly dressed, barefoot girl.


	7. Chapter 7

Flanked by two men, Six descended the ramp into Two's office under the watchful blue light. On the screen Number Seven was still busy about her work. She was attaching the line to a long slender branch fashioning a crude fishing pole. He was pleased to see she had started a fire. It burned brightly against the face of the rocks. Casey possessed a truly interesting skill set.

Two glared at Six from his chair. "You disobeyed me."

"Do you think she'll catch anything?" Six asked.

Two took his meaning with a glower and waved his hand at the guards. "That will be all."

Obedient as dogs, the men went out leaving them alone.

A chair came up out of the floor.

"Have a seat." Two said.

Six sat on the desk.

"I warned you to leave that girl alone, Number Six."

"I hardly think that's what you really want."

"The blazes with what you think." Two leaned out of his chair. "My orders were clear. You were to have no contact with Number Seven. Your interference has only bolstered her resolve and no doubt prolonged her rebellion. This is a very serious matter."

"Life and death?"

"Her life. And you may have very well sealed her fate."

"I should think you have." On the screen Casey was baiting her hook with bits of shell fish. "Quite the Robison Curuso, isn't she?"

Two looked contemptuously at the screen. "You spent a lot of time out there. What did the two of you talk about?"

"Fishing."

"I could have you in for interrogation, Six."

"It's been tried."

Casey walked into the surf and cast her line. They watched silently as the girl stood in gathering dark. The waves brought her line back to shore and she cast it out again.

"What is it that makes it worth her life to win her over?" Six asked. "What does she know?" Or was it who?

"What would she know?" Two said scornfully. "She's nothing. A school drop out. Made her living as an agricultural laborer."

"Hardly the type of person who winds up in this place."

He watched Two's eyes. His own suspicions were not reflected in them. Perhaps he was mistaken.

"It's not what she was," Two gave him a conspiratorial smile. "It's what she has the potential to become that interest us."

"And that is?"

"She is not so ordinary as she appears, Number Six." Two leaned back into his chair watching the antics of his newest prisoner. "That girl is a top rated marksmen. Uncanny accuracy with any weapon." Unconsciously he touched the mark on his head. "An innate ability, it would seem."

"You intend to turn her into an assassin."

"That was our hope." Two shook his head as if suffering a terrible disappointment. "As you witnessed, she's not proving to have a tractable nature. Of course we did expect as much."

"Why?"

"We aren't the first to attempt to recruit her. Her own people tried and failed."

"And who are her people?"

"You know we don't discuss such matters here."

Six got up and walked round the room, forcing Two to spin his chair to keep an eye on him.

"And yet, you bring it up." Six stopped by the bicycle. Leaned on it. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you want me to care about this girl?"

"I want you to leave her alone." Two sounded truly angry. "Get that through that thick skull of yours. You are to have no further involvement with her. Is that understood?"

Six didn't answer. He moved back to the desk. Looked down on Two.

"I think you aught to know Six, this innocent girl you are so foolishly trying to save, shot two men in her last escape."

"Good for her."

"No, not good for her." Two hissed. "Her violent impulses make her quite unmanageable."

"I should think violent impulses would be desirable in a killer."

"She is only useful in that capacity if we control her. Wouldn't you agree?"

"I see your point." Six smiled. "It wouldn't do to have your pet killer, killing you."

"Be as flip as you like, Six. This girl will give us what we want." Number Two looked him in the eye. "The same is true of you."

"That remains to be seen."

Two came out his chair, leaned across the desk. "I warn you Number Six, stay away from her. There will be very serious repercussions if you continue to disobey me."

"Such as?"

"We have ways to make you suffer." Two snapped.

On the screen the girl was still knee deep in the rolling surf, casting her line again and again into the dark water.

"Suffering is your specialty."


	8. Chapter 8

The wind coming off the ocean had a nasty bite as it drove the rain at him. Six pushed through it searching the night. From time to time lighting opened the sky showing him the wet world in stark detail. He retraced his steps, following the waters edge. No rover emerged to menace him. No sirens cried after him. Only the wild roll of the water and the storm unaccompanied his willful disobedience. He might have been alone in the world. There could be no doubt this is what they wanted from him. A wiser man would have let it be. He was a fool.

She was where he had first found her, down by the rocks. She lay crumpled on the wet sand. She didn't answer his call. He approached like a man prepared to make an unhappy discovery. He bent down and put on hand on her shoulder. To his relief she raised her head at at his touch. Even in the dimness he could see the gash across her cheek.

He looked round, her fire had been kicked apart. Her fishing pole lay broken on the sand. "What happened?"

"Fires aren't permitted." Her voice was weak, barley heard above the noise of the wind and waves. "A couple of guys came by to tell me."

Anger surged in him. "They've hurt you."

"I hurt them back." She said defiantly.

"Can you walk?" he took hold of her, helping her to her feet.

She made a pitiful try at pulling away."You should leave me here."

"Don't argue. You stay out here, you die."

"Now or latter," it was scarce a whisper. "Does it matter?"

He got her arm across his shoulders and his own around her waist. She was soaked to the skin and cold as a fish. She leaned on him heavily.

It was nothing but up hill from the beach to his apartment and she was all but a dead weight stumbling at his side. The rain came down steadily, though the fury of storm had passed. The blank eyes of many cameras swung to record their awkward trek through the empty streets. And still no one came to dissuade him from this folly.

He was near spent when they reached his door. It opened for them of it's own accord. How considerate of Number Two. Six heaved his burden inside. She was giving out completely. He had to carry her up the steps and into the bedroom. He flopped her down on the bed. In the light of the room he could see the bruising on her face. They had slapped her around pretty good. More than they would have if she'd hadn't fought them. In her suborn pride she did herself herself no favors. Something he all to well understood.

"Come on now." He shook her. "Wake up. You mustn't go to sleep."

She opened her eyes and blinked at him. "They kicked sand on my fire." In a harsh whisper. "The fish is gone. I couldn't find it."

"Sit up." He had to lift her. She swayed, scarcely conscious, lifeless as a doll. "Look at me. You may have a concussion. You mustn't go to sleep just yet."

"I have to catch another one." Her voice was thick.

He gave her a shake, getting her eyes to focus on him. "you have to get out of these wet cloths. You understand?"

"I lost your lighter."

"Never mind that," he said. "You're freezing. You need to change. Can you do that?"

Her eyes focused on him and she nodded.

"Good girl." He went to the wardrobe, got out his dressing gown and tossed it on the bed. She looked at it dully.

"Put that on. I'll make some tea."

She reached for the gown and he left her to it. He went to the kitchen, started the kettle and waited. Still they were content to watch. He gave the camera a salute.

He paced to the window. Looked out at the now quiet night. A shower and a change of cloths would make it more pleasant. Sleep would make it even better. He glanced back at the bedroom. Casey was now in his dressing gown, sitting on the edge of the bed. Her cloths lay in a wet, sandy heap on the floor. Two had been honest as to his intent. Had he not interfered she would still be out there, left to the mercy of the elements. They would see her dead before they allowed her to return unrepentant to the comforts of the Village.

And when they had enough of this game they would take her back there and force him to witness either her death or her surrender. Was that how they intended to break him? By destroying her before his eyes. He was a fool to allow himself be drawn in.

And there was that other thing the cold calculating part of him longed to discover. The how and the why of her presents and how she tied to a past the insanity of this place could never erase.

He fixed a cup of tea and went back to the bedroom. Casey's dull eyes looked at the floor. She was scarcely aware of him.

"Here," Six put a hand on her, drawing her back to the here and now. "drink up. It will help warm you."

She took the cup clumsily. Her hands shook so she had trouble drinking.

He got a rug out of wardrobe and draped it round her shoulders. Some life was returning to her. When she looked up at him there was a spark of light in her eyes.

"Feeling better?" he asked.

"Yes. Thank you."

"Don't thank me. I haven't done anything for you. There is nothing I can do for you."

"I know." She looked away.

A trained interrogator can tell when a subject is ready to talk. The cruel, though practical

demonstration of her weakness had brought Casey to that point. He could easily exploit it.

"Very soon," he said. "men are going to come to take you," He said, "I won't be able to stop them."

This revelation was another act of cruelty. When her eyes met his they were devoid of hope. He felt that familiar pang as his conscious punished him. He had been so very good at his job. It was his rebellion against the demand he use his considerable talents against the innocent had put him in conflict with it.

He leaned close, "Casey, there is a way we might be able to help one another."

"How?"

"Confide in me."

She dropped her eyes not quite ready to yield, still clinging to her suspicions. But it was a mere reflex of habit. She wanted to trust him. He only need give her a reason.

"Come now, I've given you tea and let you wear my dressing gown." a gentle nudge. "That must earn me some measure of confidence."

The slightest smile flickered across her ruined face.

"That's my girl," Six glanced at the camera reminding the watchers that he hadn't forgotten.

She followed his gaze in the direction of the unseen camera.

"Never mind them." he said. "They love to listen. Gives them a sense of importance."

The microphones in this room were very sensitive. If they didn't know what he was beginning to suspect it wouldn't do to help them discover it. He would have to be ever so careful. He sat next to her on the bed, close enough that his shoulder touched hers. She was shaking, still suffering from the effects of hypothermia. She was in no condition for an interrogation. She needed to be in hospital. He took the empty cup form her limp hands, set in on the night stand. She was vulnerable. A good operative always presses the advantage.

He whispered. "How is it you know me?"

He felt her tense.

"Now, no nonsense, Casey. We haven't time for it." he hissed. "When we met on the beach, you recognized me. How?"

For a moment she looked at him reproachfully, like a little girl caught in a lie. Then she relaxed giving into the desire to have him as an alley.

"You were in a picture," she said faintly, "with my dad."

And now he was getting some where.

"What is his name?"

She shook her head, "When I was growing up he used a lot of names. We all did." her voice trailed off. "That was the part mom hated most. Changing her name."

Of course he wouldn't have used his own name. If Casey's father and his long lost friend were truly one and the same that conformation may have to come from elsewhere. Perhaps Number Two.

"Where is your father, Casey?"

"Dead."

It didn't shock him. He had long suspected it. Since the day Chambers had failed to meet him at the foreign office. But Casey's existence suggested his friend's fate had caught up with him much latter. How many years had he spent in hiding? The girl sitting beside him was a wealth of information but she didn't have the physical fortitude for this kind of emotional dredging. She was flagging fast. And yet he pushed her.

"How did he die?"

Her breath caught. She was going to collapse on him again. He put an arm round her gently. She allowed herself to lean on him.

"Tell me, Casey."

"I don't know," she shook her head weakly against his shoulder. "He left."

"How do you know he's dead?"

"He never came back." her hushed voice trembled. "If he were alive he would have come back."

Not conclusive. Nothing he was getting from her was. Even in her most honest state, Casey was infuriatingly mysterious. And time was running out. Their watchers would not tolerate be left in the dark so long.

"He told me to find you." she whispered.

"Why?"

"He thought you could help me." She was crying silently.

"Did you try?"

"You'd retired."

There is was. The reason for this farce. The question of his resignation. No wonder Number Two was so patient. Unconsciously his grip on the girl, his interrogator, tightened. He glared up at the camera. Did they think this pathetic attempt would sway him? His rage welled.

"What are you waiting for?" he breathed. "Ask your questions."

"Is that why you're here?" Casey stirred, uncomfortable in the vice his arm had become. "Because you quit?"

"You know more about that than you pretend," it was near a snarl. "What promises have they made you?"

She was getting restless with his harsh tone and the confinement of his hold but had no strength to fight.

"How did your father die? Was he brought here to have his mind pumped? Did they kill him before or after he gave them what they were after?" he was shaking. "how long did he hold out?"

Casey was frozen. He shifted away from her enough to see her face. His accusation had been unfounded. She didn't know what had become of her father but what she now suspected shown in her eyes.


	9. Chapter 9

From the other side of the camera's blank eye Number Two watched Six and the girl in his embrace. They had their heads together talking, though far too softly for the microphones to pick up. Not a happy conversation by the look of it. But very intimate. All he could expect from two such contentious individuals.

"How long are you going to allow them to whisper like that?" The supervisor demanded.

"She's confiding in him now," he said. "And he in her."

"Conspiring, more likely."

Two shook his head in irritation."In conspiracy exists a bond."

"Your method is quite reckless."

"In what way? They are being monitored. Any conspiracy they hatch will soon be discovered." His lip curled. "It's well in hand."

The supervisor maintained a skeptical silence.

Time would prove him out. It was obvious that the girl was rending her heart to Six and he was responding. Compassion was Six's undoing. The man could not resist the hero's role even when he understood the futility of it.

On the screen the little act was breaking up. Something had been said that soured the mood. Six got to his feet. Seven remained seated on the bed. She looked positively ill. Poor child. It wouldn't do to have her dieing on him, not just yet. A little time to recover. Perhaps even a medical would be in order.

Six looked down at Casey. Something was turning round in that suborn head of hers. Not likely he'd get it out of her tonight. She stared down at the floor swaying slightly. He reached down and put a finger under her chin, lifting her face. Her eyes were glassy. She was going to collapse on him.

"You aught to lie down," he said.

"What good dose it do you to know?"

"The answers to questions are always of value."

"If I ask nice maybe they will put that on my grave stone." she said dreamily.

"Not likely. It's contrary to the philosophy of the Village," he said. "You best lie down."

He pulled the covers back and she half fell over onto the pillow. He had to swing her legs up on the bed for her. It was like tucking in an overgrown toddler.

As he arranged the blanket over her, she said, "The Village," her eyes closed, "a beautiful prison for the mind."

How very true. He shut out the light and left her. The fun was ended. They would come soon. He looked up at the camera as he paced the room.

Exhaustion was sapping his patience."Enjoy the show?" he snapped at it.

On the other side of that camera Number Two glowered back at Six.


	10. Chapter 10

A sound roused him. He'd drifted off, not his intention. He rose from the chair stiffly and looked towards the bedroom. Casey was a still form in the shadows. Beyond the window the sky was beginning to lighten. This number Two showed extraordinary restraint. A patient man makes a more difficult adversary. He stretched, noting again an out of place sound. It came from beyond the door. Time was finally up.

The door opened. He grinned at it. Four big, dower men poured through it and up the stairs to crowed around him. The fight at last.

"How can I help you?" he asked, just filling the moment between the first punch.

"You have an unauthorized house guest." One of them said. "We're here to remove her. Don't make any trouble."

"Me, never." He said and slugged the speaker in the mouth.

The man reeled back and the others closed in. It was tight quarters for a brawl. Artfully he ducked a blow and delivered another of his own. Only a few feet away the object of this foolishness slept as bodies crashed and furniture broke. He staggered under a well stuck right cross and went backwards into a pair of arms that clamped round him, lifting him off the ground. His feet struck the snarling face that came at him. He and the man who was attempting to crush him like a bug, staggered back into the kitchen. Tea cups clattered to the floor. The others followed them into the even more cramped space. Six flung his head back, felt the impact as the back of his skull struck the other man's face. Something gave, like stepping on a snail. There was a muffled cry and the hold loosened. He broke free swung at one of his assailants, sending the man flailing backwards. The other two grabbed him, holding his arms, pushing him back. He was grabbed from behind again, this time the arm went round his throat.

He was losing to the crushing vice that cut off his air. Red showed at the corners of his vision.

He kicked out again connecting with someone. This was traded by a jarring blow to the side of his head. More red. The arm round his neck clamped down tighter. No air. His mind was far too slow. He never saw the man who delivered the closing blow, he didn't even feel it. Yet it carried him away, like a leaf on the wind.

He was laying on the floor. Air was burning its way back into his lungs, choking him. Someone cursed and a sledgehammer caught him in the temple. It split his head and blackness poured into him. He drowned in it.

It was dark. He looked up at the ceiling. Still at home. Home, sweet home. He could feel the emptiness of it even as awareness seeped into him. She was gone of course. He lay, feeling the pain, knowing movement would bring more. The hidden eyes watched him. How long had he lain there? Had they been content to watch him? Such patience. Number Two should get another hobby.

He rolled over. It didn't disappoint. He hurt from head to toe. It felt as if they'd used him for a dance floor after he was down. He got his knees under him and worked himself up against the counter. It was a long climb. He was panting by the time he gained his feet. He hung there in the dark, bent over, breathing shallowly. He had a least one cracked rib. He pushed himself away from the counter and stumbled slowly out of the kitchen. He fell into the chair. He was still wet. A chill set in, making him shiver. His aching muscles protested. He closed his eyes.

Where was she now? Back on her beach, colder than himself? Afraid? If she had any sense she would be. She didn't strike him as a particularly sensible girl.

Anger alone propelled him out of the chair. He staggered to the door. It wouldn't open. No reason to expect it would. They wanted him here. A ringing stared far off. He listed to it, growing louder, darkness pushed in after it. He turned away from the door, heading for the window. His mind was slow, clawing up a muddy hill. He went to his knees. It was full dark and the ringing had become a hum. He swayed and fell forward.

On the infrared camera Number Two watched his unruly pet collapse.

"Should I ring the doctor?" The supervisor asked.

"That won't be necessary."

"Do you think that wise? You know how valuable he is."

"A fact that has been impressed upon me since my arrival." Two snapped. "And yet what value is he to us as he is? Wild as an animal. Fighting us at every turn."

The supervisor opened his mouth to speak.

Two raised a hand stopping the words, "Leave him where he is. Pain is a good teacher."

"And if he dies?"

"He won't die. Men like that are harder to kill than cockroaches." He looked back at the unconscious form on the screen. "They will be here long after the rest of us have perished."


	11. Chapter 11

The destination was number's Two house. Just the man he wanted to see. His handlers dragged him through the steel door and gave him a shove that sent him stumbling down the ramp. He lost his balance and slid to the bottom in an undignified heap, caught in the blue light like a stage actor. A spectacle any sadist would enjoy.

Two laughed, "Not feeling quite so feisty today, Number Six."

He came to his feet in a violent lunge, only the desk kept him from Two. "Where is she?"

Two smiled at him from the mouth of his chair. "Where I want her to be."

They were alone in the room. As alone as it was possible to be in this place.

Six repressed the urge to snap the man's neck. "You won't beat me with this little game of yours."

"Won't I?"

"No."

"The two of you have some conspiracy brewing. Or at least that's what you'd have me believe."

Six made no response.

"Care to tell me what you were really whispering about last night?"

"It gives me such pleasure to watch it eat at you."

"Speaking of pleasure," Number Two switched on the big screen.

Six turned to look at it as the cameras closed in on Casey. Dressed again in her wet cloths she looked a wreck sitting on her rock, knees drawn to her chin. She was staring out to sea. Dark clouds gathered over the water.

Two said, "It must drive you mad."

Six ignored him, moving away, his eyes on the screen.

"So resourceful. So determined. And yet all you can do is watch." Two stood and came round the desk. "This is the kind of power we hold over you. We own you, Number Six. Body, mind and spirit."

Without thought, Six wheeled on him. Two's composure slipped, he scrambled backwards to the desk, fumbled with the controls. Six took a menacing step, nice to see his tormentor cower.

There was a sharp tone from the light. It disrupted his thoughts. Six blinked up at it. It pulsed now, impossibly bright. His mind was blank. He looked away, trying to remember. Another tone, more intense. It pulled him back, tore his mind from him. He stood transfixed.

Two approached Six, now immobile beneath the light, "Even you can be tamed," he said. "if only temporarily."

With satisfaction Two noted the battered face. Number Six certainly wasn't one to shrink from pain. The man's willingness to suffer for his convictions was profound. Even death was not too great a price. It made him almost larger than life. Yet, in this passive state Number Six hardly seemed impressive. Just a man, like any other. Flesh and blood.

Two walked around him, looked into his vacant blue eyes. "You don't fool me." he slapped Six across the face. "I know that girl told you something."

The head moved to the side, then came back obediently, with no more awareness than a wax dummy. He could beat the man to death where he stood.

Two struck him twice more, the rage building. The empty eyes looked on. But from every corner of the room, other eyes watched him. Two pulled his hand back, it shook. They would only allow him to go so far. No permanent damage could be inflicted on Number Six. Mustn't damage that precious brain of his. Two scowled. It's value far surpassed even his own.

Number Two composed himself. "I will not be played by you. Whatever plans you have will come to nothing. As they always do."

He reached into his pocket and drew out a lighter. The one Six had given Number Seven on the beach.

"Something to remember her by," he said, slipping it into the pocket of man's jacket.

Two went back to his desk and pushed a button. The light dimmed, relaxing its hold. Number Six blinked, coming back to himself. That stubborn demeanor slipping into place as he shook off the disorientation. The look the man gave him was positively reproachful.

Number Two settled in his chair, returning his attention to Number Seven, still displayed on the huge screen. She was a pitiful sight.

"You can save her." Number Two said.

Six smiled contemptuously.

"Tell me what I want to know and I will spare her."

Without comment Six turned towards the screen. The fingers of his right hand twitched, betraying repressed emotion. The girl now stood on the rock, hugging herself against the breeze. The sky had darkened. Another storm. Another cold night to batter her. How many more such nights could she endure? A question to haunt Number Six in his dreams.

"All I have to do is cooperate," Number Six said. "with you."

Two leaned forward. "A small price to pay for her life. Wouldn't you agree?"

Six said nothing. The fingers continued their restless movement.

On the screen Number Seven dropped off the rock. She looked up and down empty beach as if making a decision. Briefly her face turned towards the camera. Even at the distance it had a haunted look.

"Why did you resign?" Two asked.

Number Six tightened. Was it anger or was a war was raging in that suborn head of his?

"It's a simple enough question." Two said. "Why did you resign?"

As they watched Number Seven sank down in the sand beside the rocks and drew into herself.

The man stood as if he'd turned to stone himself, refusing to yield to the temptation. What did it take to make him bend? Number Two glared at the girl on the screen. She had not tried very hard to endear herself to Number Six. To give him reason beyond mere human decency to sacrifice himself for her. For love a man will move mountains. But she didn't offer, in fact she made every effort to drive him away. Preferring it seemed to embrace her exile. And Six, no a move on his part. Had he no drives?

"You lied to the girl." Two said.

This brought Six back to life. He turned, anger burning in those cold eyes of his.

"You told her there was nothing you could do for her."

"There isn't."

"Oh, come now, Number Six. You've always known you held the keys to her life." He siad. "A man like you has a great deal to bargain with."

Six smiled. "I don't make bargains."

The contempt in the man's voice irritated him. "Of course." Two said, "Still a hard man. Hard enough to let a defenseless girl die?"

He may as well have been talking to a wall.

"Why did you resign?"

Only the twitching of his fingers indicated Six had heard him at all. "Very well then," Two shut off the screen. "Perhaps you need more time to consider." The girls suffering would wear him down the way a drip of water wares stone.

Without a word Number Six went up the ramp.

"Do remember, Number Six," He said.

Six stopped, still seething that contempt.

"Tonight, while you are lying in your warm bed, guarding your precious secrets," Number Two said. "she will be out there."

Still not a word, just rage, simmering under the surface, scarcely contained. Infuriating how much control that man had.

"What do you think will kill her?" Two hissed, his own temper was spiraling away from him. "Cold, hunger or the loneliness?"

"You will."

"What did you say?" he was out of his seat.

"You are her killer."

"Get out! Get out!"

As the door closed behind Number Six, Two settled himself back into his chair. He shouldn't have lost his temper in front of the man. He turned the screen back on. It's spying eye found Six. He'd just stepped out of the front door. His hand went to his pocket. Found the lighter. A moment of confusion, then he glanced back at the door angrily, already putting it together.

Stuffing the lighter back in his pocket he looked towards the beach.

"That's right," Two said. "let it eat at that over developed conscious of yours." He glowed at the screen, "It won't be long and you will bloody well crawl back here to give me what I want."

Almost as if he'd heard, Six saluted the camera.

Six stalked to the window. It was full dark now, wind slapped the trees. Below in court yard he heard the sound of Rover. A strange mix of electronic tones and an almost animal roar. Even behind the glass he felt the fear of it as the large white ball rolled into view. The nasty thing come towards him. He stepped away from the window. Beyond the door he could hear it prowling. They meant to keep him here tonight.

Without purpose he paced the confines of his room. Rain began to fall. He glared at a camera. His tormentor was watching. Waiting for him to crack. Might as well make it interesting for him. Six took a shower and went to bed.

Two watched. Hard man indeed. The inferred showed him sleeping like a baby. He may well see that girl dead before he yielded an inch. Irritably Two switched views, finding Number Seven sheltered against the rocks as the rain soaked her. He smiled. A few more nights like this would take its tole on both of them.


	12. Chapter 12

The beach was deserted. No sign of Casey. Six walked round the rocks. Rain had washed away any tracks. Had Two removed her or had she the initiative to run? If she tried for the mountains she was dead.

He scooped up a hand full of sand and let it run through his fingers. The sky over the waters was clear. It was going to be a beautiful day. The first since Casey's arrival. Another thing about this place, every aspect of it suited their purpose. It gave one the impression they could control everything. If only minds were as easy to manipulate as the weather.

Six climbed up on the rock where Casey had sat. He settled himself and looked out over the water. The game was going to Number Two's advantage. No reason for him the change the rules now. More likely the girl was refusing to behave. And yet the quiet persisted. No alarm for either of them. This Number Two didn't always tip his hand.


	13. Chapter 13

The black chair rose slowly out of the floor. Number Two yawned and switched on the screen. Time to see how things were progressing. Number Six was already up, pacing. Restless as a shark, that one. In that uncanny way of his, Six looked at the camera, his eyes resentful. No matter, all in good time. Two switched to the beach. Nothing. Number Seven had vanished.

He grabbed the yellow phone."Where is she?" there was an irritating delay on the other end. "Number Seven!" he yelled into it. "Where is she?"

The director's voice came over the line. "Scanning now."

The cameras flicked through the village and the surrounding area. All quiet in the early hours. No sign of the girl. Two shoved down the panic. There was no where for her to run. She would be found.

"Should I issue an alert?" The director asked.

"No alert. Locate and observe only." He set the phone down hard.

Let her have a little rope. See what she would do. He switched back to Number Six's room, Six had gone. Out for an early morning stroll? The camera found the man heading boldly for the beach. Such a contemptuous disregard for authority. Still it was good to see he hadn't lost interest.

The yellow phone buzzed. He snatched it up.

The director was on the other end. "Number Six is moving towards the outer perimeter."

"I can see that."

"Should we intercept?"

"Allow him satisfy his curiosity," The man's reaction may prove insightful. "Keep scanning for Number Seven. Inform me the moment she's been located."

Two settled back in his chair and flicked aimlessly through the cameras not really seeing what flashed across the screen. A thought which he scarcely dare entertain was niggling in the back of his mind. Had been for some time. Something about Number Seven wasn't quite right. The girl was demonstrating unusual resilience and self reliance. Nothing in her past could account for it. Not in the past they had been presented with. Could it have been a fabrication? He bristled at the thought.

The screen now showed Number Six. Two paused leaning his chin on his cane as he watched Six cross the sand with brazen confidence. Was she a plant? If that were indeed the case he had allowed her unfettered access to their most valuable prisoner. Such an oversight could spell disaster. For him personalty.

Two grabbed up the yellow phone again. The director answered.

"I want Number Seven's file," Two barked.

"Sir?"

"Everything we have, including her psychiatric report." he was shaking. A mistake like this could spell disaster and he wasn't going to bare the blame. "And tell the doctor I want to see him immediately."


	14. Chapter 14

The beach was deserted. No sign of Casey. Six walked round the rocks. Rain had washed away any tracks. Had Two removed her or had she the initiative to run? If she tried for the mountains she was dead.

He scooped up a hand full of sand and let it run through his fingers. The sky over the waters was clear. It was going to be a beautiful day. The first since Casey's arrival. Another thing about this place, every aspect of it suited their purpose. It gave one the impression they could control everything. If only minds were as easy to manipulate as the weather.

Six climbed up on the rock where Casey had sat. He settled himself and looked out over the water. The game was going to Number Two's advantage. No reason for him the change the rules now. More likely the girl was refusing to behave. And yet the quiet persisted. No alarm for either of them. This Number Two didn't always tip his hand.


	15. Chapter 15

From his chair Two shot a viscous look at the door. The Director was a long time coming with that report. Up on the screen Number Six sat brooding on the rock. Had he really expected to find the girl or was this just a ruse? Two paced. Last night while they were cuddling a plan could very well have been hatched. Right before his eyes.

"Where is she? What are the two of you playing at?" Two snapped at the screen. Six continued to study the ocean. That stoic face of his betraying nothing. "What ever it is, it won't work."

The door opened. Two wheeled on it. The Director and the doctor came through. In the Director's hand was the report.


	16. Chapter 16

Six slipped down off the rock. Not much was left of Casey's crude camp. Some charred pieces of drift wood from the fire, a shard of glass and the shells she'd collected lay scattered in the sand. The broken pole caught his eye. He picked it up and fingered the hook. The tip was sharp indeed. Resourceful for such a young girl. Whatever her past, survival training had been apart of it. Exactly how much time had been put to transforming her into an assassin? She didn't yet have the hard eyes of a seasoned killer. Though she may very well have enough experience to try.

He tossed the pole down. If she had left the beach of her own volition she wouldn't be running. His gaze went to the Village, just now waking. Sunlight gleamed off the green dome. The prospect of revenge would be far too enticing. And he had put her onto it.


	17. Chapter 17

The screen now displayed pictures from Number Seven's life. From childhood to present. Two flipped through the pages while the doctor watched impatiently and the Director looked board. Number Two found the information his intuition told him to be faults. Now the screen showed a grisly murder scene. A woman crumpled on the floor, her body outlined in white chalk. The girl's mother. Killed in a botched burglary.

"It says here, Doctor, that Number Seven's father abandoned her after the death of her mother."

The doctor leaned in, squinted at the report. "Yes," he said without particular interest.

"What in your medical opinion would that do to a young mind?

"The violent lose of a parent followed by the abandonment of another would cause deep emotional trauma. "

"And how would this manifest?"

"Such trauma, particularly at a young age creates a fracture of the psyche." The doctor said analytically. "Depression, anxiety and abandonment issues are common. Such subjects are found to have unstable and often malleable personalities."

"You have observed Number Seven," Two said quietly. "How would you characterize her?"

Displeasure crossed the doctor's face. "Subject displays an independent and defiant nature. As I've stated before, most unsuitable."

"And yet given this report and you're own expert analyses, Number Seven ought to be the perfect subject."

Sudden interest glittered in the doctor's eyes. He looked at the face on the screen as if seeing it for the first time. "If I may?" he reached for the report with as impertinent a look as he dared.

Two waited with grave patience as the doctor scanned the pages with the desperation of a castaway searching the horizon.

"I wonder Doctor, how you might have missed this rather glaring inconsistency."

"Of course I haven't examined the subject myself," he said, the petulance returning to his tone.

"Had I done, I'm would most certainly have discovered it,"

"It's been brought to your attention now." Two said unkindly. "How do you account for it?"

"I'm unable to. However were I permitted to examine the subject..."

"Out of the question," Two snapped, far too quickly.

Surprise registered in the doctor's face. Number Two gathered himself quickly "While I appreciate your enthusiasm, for the time being there are other paths of inquiry I intend to pursue."

"Very well. I will have you know I refuse to take responsibility for this debacle."

"Duly noted."

A glimmer of suspicion. "If that will be all. I have my duties to attend to."

"Very well." The doctor turned to go. "Speak to no one of this."

The doctor stopped and looked back. Vague resentment tinged his tone. "Of course."

As the door closed Two returned to his chair. The Director waited

"You've been here a long time," he said almost absently.

"Yes, Sir."

"What do you make of this business with Number Seven?"

"Obviously there has been a mistake."

"Has anything like this happened before?"

"No, Sir. Village intelligence is extremely good."

"If not mistake, then perhaps a misdirection."

"Sir?"

"I want you to discover which. And I want it done quickly and quietly."

"Yes, Sir."

"That will be all."

As the Director went out Number Two changed the view on the screen finding Number Six now heading back towards the village. He moved with determination of a man pursuing a plan. It would be good to have a chat.


	18. Chapter 18

The early risers were shuffling about. Six moved past them, ignoring greetings. An electrics tractor trundled by. On impulse he followed as it meandered through the narrow streets now crowded with the ever present foot and bike traffic. The tractor's crawling pace forced him to stop often, just so not to over take it. He saw the destination long before they reached it. A camera hung from it's mounting. Sabotage. No doubt Casey's handy work.

A quick glance round told him where she would have concealed herself in the shrubbery. As the tractor stopped next to the camera Six slid into the brush. He found her snipers nest marked by mashed ground and a few smooth stones. He picked one up as he peered out at the electrician now examining the camera. Thoughtfully he rubbed the stone between his fingers. Casey was good indeed. The camera was some twenty feet away. What could she accomplish with an actual weapon? Was that what she had in mind now. To lay her hands on one?

He dropped the stone and stepped back into the street. The electrician's back was to him, still fussing with the camera. He'd taken it down and was examining the smashed lens. Six moved closer.

A smooth stone lay on the ground near the camera mount. "What seems to be the problem?" he asked.

The man gave him a sour look. "Nothing that concerns you. Move along."

He moved along. But not very fast. The phone in the tractor buzzed stopping him. He watched the electrician answer it.

"What, another one? Where?" the man paused listening, then said. "This one's been smashed, deliberately by the look of it."

Now the alarm rang out. Blaring from every speaker. Casey's mischief had been discovered. A siren sounded. And then that unmistakable roar. They had unleashed the mechanical hound. People along the road seemed to freeze in place. Afraid even to breath. His own pulse quickened as the sound closed. Moments latter Rover bounded into view. It rolled past him without notice. Casey best be careful. It was hunting. Six started after it. He'd like to find her before it did. A run in with Rover would do her no favors.

A car pulled along side and stopped. Two leaned out, smiled coldly.

"Get in, I'll give you a lift."

He kept walking.

"It wasn't a request."

Six stopped, considering. Two was alone. No thugs to back his play. "You don't think I had anything to do with this?" he asked.

"No, of course not. I just want to talk. Come along, get in."

"Talk. About what?"

"You really are beginning to try my patience, Six."

Far off Rover howled. Six looked after the sound. Unconsciously his fingers twitched.

Two laughed, "Oh don't worry, Rover will get the culprit."

Six turned away. Behind him Number Two shouted. He kept on. The car pulled around him and stopped blocking his way. Two got out, by his look he was having a good deal of trouble controlling his anger. They walked together in hard silence. Two keeping pace like an unwanted shadow. Below them, Rover roamed trough the Village. It had yet to find it's quarry. Casey was good at evading. There was certainly more to that girl than met the eye. It was well past time he found out what it was.

"Where are you going?" Two demanded finally.

And Two was just the man to tell him. Perhaps his company was not so distasteful after all.

"Breakfast. Care to join me?"


End file.
